


To Build A Home From Construction Paper

by augopher



Series: The Things We Make, We Make With Love [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Graduate Student Stiles Stilinski, Kid Fic, M/M, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Single Parent Derek, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, bank employee derek, gender variant character, minor homophobic/transphobic language, sheriff meets derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2014-12-07
Packaged: 2018-02-28 13:24:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2734199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/augopher/pseuds/augopher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A couple months into their relationship, Derek and Stiles work, they just work okay? Stiles is some kind of child whisperer, and Stephen adores him. But will introducing Derek and Stephen to the Sheriff change things?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pink and Purple Paper Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to the great response to the first part of this series. Thanks to 10millionfireflies for the suggestion to continue this.
> 
> Come visit me on tumblr.  
> captaintinymite.tumblr.com
> 
> Please don't post my work Goodreads

Derek walked in the front door, exhausted from a long day at the office. His shoulders and neck ached with the tension of standing hunched over a conference table and computer all day. He made a mental note to book a massage on his next day off. Whenever the hell that would be. He glanced at the living room clock: 08:05. _Well there goes my evening._ This new campaign was killing him, taking away all his time with Stephen, and had really started to affect him. His temper was all but hair trigger at this point, and he was fairly certain he walked around with resting asshole face all day.

He thought about calling out, but stopped when he heard laughter. He walked down the hall and smiled at the scene in the dining room. Stiles and Stephen sat at the table, which was covered in red, pink, and white construction paper hearts as well as various shades of glitter and sequins. He leaned up against the wall to watch the pair of them stringing the hearts onto bright red ribbons and couldn't fight the smile on his face.

Stephen looked up from his ribbon. "Hi, Daddy. Look! We're making a mobile, for Valentine's Day. Isn't it beautiful?" He ran over and hugged him.

"Sure is buddy." Derek ruffled his son's wavy chestnut hair. He got that from his mother, but those eyes, more green than hazel? Those were all Derek

The boy batted away his hand. "Watch it, Daddy. You'll mess up my headband." Stephen straightened his pink headband, fluffing the silk flower on it back to its original fullness.

"Oh excuse me. I'd hate to do that. That would be a tragedy. When did you get that one? I don't remember it."

Stephen rolled his eyes. "Duh, Christmas. From Auntie Erica."

Derek rubbed the back of his neck. If his best friend found out he'd forgotten about a single piece of the, frankly ridiculous amounts of, outfits she bought Stephen for Christmas, he'd never hear the end of it. She spoiled him, and Derek should be upset, but really? He was just glad Stephen had a positive female role model. "That's right. Sorry, Buddy. Long day at work. Daddy's just really tired."

The bank at which he worked had been working on a new campaign targeted to the students at UC Beacon Hills, and the PR department, Derek's department, had all been pulling twelve hour shifts for the last two weeks. He hadn't seen the sun in a week. It would have been great if he needed the money, but he didn't. All the overtime was seriously cutting into his family time. Stiles, the lifesaver- the gorgeous, wonderful,kind- _Reel it in Derek_ , Stiles had been picking Stephen up and taking him to school every day. Well every day except Mondays and Wednesdays when he had a class. Those were Erica's days.

He'd become so used to seeing Stiles in his house, it felt weird whenever the guy wasn't around. Stiles spent the night over at Derek's more often than not, even though Derek's place increased his commute to school by twenty minutes. If that wasn't an indicator of Stiles sticking around for a while, then the fact he was indulging Stephen's new-found craftmania definitely was. Craftmania? Was that a word? Hell if Derek knew.

He sent Stephen upstairs to take a bath and dress for bed. "Need any help?"

"Nope." Stiles finished tying all the ribbons to a wooden hoop.

"Where'd you get the hoop?"

"It's an embroidery hoop. Works perfectly. Stephen and I spent over an hour at the craft store today. I may have gone overboard on the supplies."

"You didn't have to do that. I could have left you money to pay for them."

Stiles waved him off. "It's okay. I wanted to buy them. To be honest, I like making these crafts almost as much as he does. They're fun. Your son is on his way to be a master crafter. He'll probably take my job next Christmas."

"Stiles, you graduate next winter. You'll be looking for internships."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Well yeah, but hey, I liked that job. It was rewarding. Plus I kind of wrote a paper on how it gave me experience working with children." He waved the mobile in Derek's direction. "Where should we hang it?"

"Over by the stairs." Derek took the finished item from him and climbed up on the step stool to screw a hook into the ceiling. The colorful hoop of embellished hearts hung from the ceiling, sending glimmering light onto the nearby walls, Derek stood back to admire their handiwork. "Looks nice. Where do you come up with all these crafts? You are like a never-ending book of kid projects." He wrapped an arm around Stiles' waist and kissed his temple.

Stiles gave his shoulder a playful shove. "Of course I am. You should see my Pinterest." Derek laughed. "What?"

"I still find it odd you're on Pinterest. I thought that was for like soccer moms, wannabe fashionistas, and hipsters."

"Not only." He grinned. "I only use it for work. I have boards for all kinds of projects. There's one for volunteer projects, one for school, and several others for furture art therapy ideas. Just want to get a head start. Okay, it's not entirely work. I have a couple boards for things Stephen might like to do." He blushed.

Yep, he was pretty sure he was in love with the guy, and Derek couldn't help but grin.

"Oh my gosh! I love it!" Stephen came bounding down the stairs, his feet almost getting tangled in his purple ruffled nightgown, to stand under the mobile. "Look at how sparkly it is! Can we keep it up for a real, real, real, real, real long time?"

"Wow, five reals? I can't compete with that level of commitment. Sure thing, Stevie." He picked up his son and gave him a hug. "You finished your homework before making the mobile right?"

"Yeah. Stiles helped me with my words and my reading. He's a good helper."

"Yes he is." Derek set him down on the floor, smiling at Stiles. "Well, Kiddo, it's time for bed. Say goodnight to Stiles."

Stephen hugged around Stiles' legs, with enough enthusiasm to almost knock him over. "Night, night Stiles. Tomorrow we should make something for you."

"Sure thing, Kiddo." He ruffled the boy's hair.

"I'll be up in a minute. Go pick out a story." Derek waited until Stephen had made it up the stairs before turning to Stiles. "You want to stay tonight?" Though Stephen was fully aware Stiles stayed over some nights, Derek kept their PDA cleaner than G-rated around him, and by that, he meant nothing more than hand holding. They'd work up to it. Throwing kids into the mix complicated things, not that either of them wanted to change that about their relationship.

"I'd love to, but, I promised to bring my dad a late dinner down at the station."

He pulled Stiles in close, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend's waist. He kissed him. "Mm, that's too bad." Derek mumbled against his lips.

"Tell me about it." Stiles let out a soft moan when Derek moved to mouth at his neck. "Really wish I could stay. But hey, Erica is taking Stephen tomorrow night, yeah?"

Derek nodded against Stiles throat. "Uh huh. I know, be a good boy, Derek."

Stiles pulled back and kissed his forehead. "Sweet dreams, Der."

Derek watched him pull away from the house and climbed the stairs. They hadn't had time to repaint Stephen's room from the pale blue Derek painted it when he bought the place to the pink with purple stars he wanted now. They would get around to it, really they would. He damn near tripped over a toy dump truck as he walked through the door."Did you pick one?"

"Yep." Stephen patted the space next to him on the bed. "Come snuggle, Daddy?"

Derek sat down, propping up the pillows behind his back as Stephen curled in under his arm and began to read.

"Oh this is my favorite part!" He grinned and recited along with his dad.  
 _"There is no one alive…_  
 _…who is you-er than you!_  
 _Shout loud, “I am lucky_  
 _to be what I am!"_

Derek smiled. "Yes you are, Buddy. Me too."


	2. Papercrafts and Pixar Make Great Pick Me Ups

Derek looked in the rear view mirror to find Stephen fiddling with the black sequins on his skirt. "Is that a new shirt?" He asked of the black and hot pink striped sweater.

"Yes. Stiles took me to the riff store."

"The thrift store?"

"Yeah. I guess that was it." The boy said not even looking up from where his fingers ran over the adornments on the skirt. "I used ten dollars of my chore money. I got this shirt and a new purse, but it's blue. Doesn't match." The timbre of his voice held none of his usual enthusiasm.

"Everything okay?" Stephen had barely said two words since Derek had picked up from school. "Is it because I've had to work so much lately?"

"No. I know you don't want to, but you gotta." He sighed. "Being a grown-up sure does suck."

Derek pulled the car to a stop, parking it on the street as close as he could get to their destination. "Then what's the matter?"

"There's a boy in school, a third grader. He's not very nice to me."

Derek nodded. "He bullying you?"

"A little, well no not really. He just says mean things to me."

"Stevie, that's bullying. He doesn't have to hit you to bully you. Did you tell the teacher?"

Stephen nodded. "Yeah, but she has to hear him say it, because she has to have proof."

"What kinds of things is he saying?" He asked even though Derek had a pretty good idea what his son would say.

"He calls me a sissy girl. I told him I'm not a girl; I'm a boy, but..." Stephen sighed, his voice cracking, almost on the verge of tears, "Daddy...what's a tranny faggot?"

 _Damn it, what eight year old knows that word all on his own?_ The world would be so much nicer if parents acted more like their children sometimes, instead of teaching them how to hate at such an early age. _How the hell do I explain this in a way a five-year-old can understand?_ "Um, well neither one of those words is something I want to ever hear you say about anyone. Okay? Those words are not nice things to say. Do you understand?"

"Like bad words?"

Derek turned off the car and unbuckled so he could turn to face his son. "Kind of, but even adults shouldn't say them. They can really hurt someone's feelings. But to answer your question. Tranny is just a mean way of calling someone transgendered. What that means is someone who was born with a boy's body or a girl's body, but inside, they feel like they are the other one. Like a born boy who feels the he is a girl not a boy. Does that make sense, Buddy? I don't how to make it easier to understand."

"A little, but why do they think that?"

Derek scratched his chin. "Well, to tell you the truth I don't really know. They just know the outside is wrong, and what they feel on the inside is right so they dress the way they feel."

Stephen looked shocked as if the meaning of his father's words just clicked. "But I'm not a girl!"

"I know you're not, Stevie. You're not transgendered. You just wear the clothes you do because you like them. You like pretty clothes, girl clothes." He winced. That was coming back at him; he knew it was.

"They're not girl clothes! They're my clothes. They're mine; they belong to me!"

Derek held up his hands in surrender. "I'm sorry, bad choice of words. I know they're your clothes. And the other word, is really not nice. It means someone, a boy who... likes to kiss boys." Was that keeping it age appropriate enough for Stephen?

"Ew! I don't want to kiss boys. That's gross."

Derek chuckled. "I kiss Stiles, and he's a boy. Does that mean I'm gross then?"

Contrite, Stephen looked down at his tights. "No. I'm sorry, Daddy. I mean, I don't want to kiss boys. Or girls. Kissing is gross. People have cooties. Kissing's for grown-ups! Blech!" He laughed a little.

"That's better. I missed the smile, Buddy."

They continued to talk it out until Stephen felt ready to go inside.

  
                                                                                                      *   *   *   *   *

  
Stiles finished setting the table, stress written across his face like a novel. "Plates, cloth napkins, proper silverware settings. Lasagna has," he craned his neck to look into the kitchen, "ten minutes." He opened the fridge. "The wine is chilled, and- Oh crap." He smacked himself in the forehead. "I forgot the apple juice."

"Why do we need apple juice, Stiles?" His father asked as he walked into the house, locking up his badge and gun in the small gun safe on the shelf.

Stiles does a double take. "Don't tell me you forgot about tonight!" He squawked, literally squawked like a duck or chicken or ...something. "I told you about this dinner weeks ago."

John rubbed his forehead. "I may remember a conversation along those lines."

"Dad! I brought you dinner at the station. I bought you a cheeseburger with REAL meat. This is important to me." Stiles did not whine. Okay, he totally did, but clearly the man was not even listening to him.

John sighed. "Let me go change. We'll continue this talk in a few."

As his father disappeared upstairs, Stiles turned to grumbling while he finished prepping the salad. He had long since become the master multitasker. Hell, he made little place-mats for the table and a construction paper centerpiece this afternoon for crying out loud! That stupid picket fence took forever, way longer than it took him to build the whole damned house.

Now, he was beginning to panic though. He wanted this dinner to go smoothly. No, he needed it to.

"So what is the purpose for this fancy dinner and apple juice?"

"Oh my god, you don't even remember why? I wanted you to meet my boyfriend. Remember?"

"The PR guy?"

"Derek." John started to take a fork to the lasagna until Stiles smacked his hand. "Seriously, Dad? You're killing me here. Yes, Derek the PR guy. I've been seeing him for a few months now. I talk about him a lot. "

John shrugged. "I didn't mean to forget. Just been busy at work."

"Yeah I know." Stiles set the salad bowl and tongs on the table.

"And the guy likes apple juice? Doesn't drink or something, right?"

 _Oh my god. How is this my life._ "No Dad. He has a five year old son, who loves apple juice."

John's jaw hung open. "Okay. I definitely do not remember that bit of the conversation. Aren't you a little young to be considering a serious relationship with someone where kids are involved."

"I'm 24, Dad. I can make my own decisions regarding whom I choose to date." The doorbell rang, and he jumped up to get it. "Dad, be nice."

"What? I'm nice. Why would I go out of my way to be mean to your-"

"Just don't." He opened the door. "Hey, Der. And Stephen, don't you look nice tonight! What a beautiful necklace. I love your sweater, and those are great shoes." He pointed to the silver and black sparkly ballet flats.

"Thanks." He replied without his usual brightness.

Derek ushered Stephen into the living room. "He had a rough day. I'll tell you about it later."

Stiles knelt down. "I forgot your apple juice, Buddy. I'm sorry. Do you like orange juice?"

"Not really. Do you have chocolate milk?"

"I can do that. Come on." Stiles fought hard not to burst with pride as Stephen took his hand while he led them both into the dining room. "Dad, this is Derek. Derek, my dad, John." He waited for them to shake hands. "This little guy here is, Stephen. Stephen, this is my dad."

"Hi Mr. Slinski." He waved, struggling over the last name.

"Hi Stephen." John stared at him for a little too long. "So...that's a nice... skirt." _Gee Stiles, you think you could have told me ahead of time?_

Stiles leveled him with a pointed glare. "Please sit." He served everyone some lasagna and left them to get their own salad, disappearing into the kitchen.

An awkward silence fell over the table. Derek, quiet by nature, was pretty good at reading people, and he could tell the Sheriff was trying to ask about the obvious elephant in the room. Maybe he should have come to the dinner by himself, leaving meeting Stephen for after Derek explained and gave John had time to process Stephen's unique fashion sense.

"So Derek, how did you meet my son?"

Stiles returned with a plastic cup for Stephen. "Here you go, Buddy. I made it extra chocolatey."

He smiled. "Thank you."

"Well," Derek wiped his mouth, "Stevie and I went to do Christmas Crafts at the mall. Stiles helped him make an ornament. He enjoyed working with Stiles so much we kept going back. I got to know him, and well, he's great. I'm sure I don't need to tell you that. You're his father. You already know. He still does all these crafts with Stevie. Our house has never been so colorful. There is paper and glitter everywhere. Not that I mind, of course."

"Yeah," Stephen pushed food around on his plate, "and he didn't make fun of my clothes."

"I see." John nodded. "About  your clothes?" Honestly, he was just curious, but had no way to approach the subject. Damn he wished he'd paid more attention to Stiles' constant rambling about Derek. This was all probably covered at some point.

"Now Dad, just because you aren't cool enough to rock a black sequin skirt, doesn't mean you get to be jealous." Stephen giggled, and Stiles winked at him. "I mean I've seen models with less fashion sense than Stephen. He could give them a run for their money. Plus he looks happier in his clothes than they ever do. I mean...I wish I was cool enough to wear that sweater, Buddy. But, pink doesn't go with my eye color."

Derek chewed on his lower lip to hide to giant smile growing from within him. The man had just defended Derek's child from what was potentially a negative remark. Derek wanted to reach across the table and kiss the man senseless. So naturally he did nothing. Well almost nothing. He slid his foot across the floor, tapping gently on Stiles' toes. To his surprise, Stiles brought his foot up to rub Derek's calf. They shared a look of understanding, the unspoken 'I Love You' passing between them with only smiles and soft gazes.

"Stephen, did you see the centerpiece I made?" Stiles asked.

"It's a pretty nice house. Kinda looks like our house."

"Pick it up." He waited for the little fingers to gingerly lift the construction paper house. "The roof comes off. Go on."

Stephen's eyes brightened as he looked inside. "Oh wow! You made my room!"

"Watch this." Stiles grinned and took the house from him, lifting a little flap on the back of the house to flip the top open like a hinge. "Now look."

"Neat! Daddy, look Stiles made our house! That's our mobile." He stared inside in wonder before trying to hand the piece back to Stiles.

"No, I made it for you. You get to take it home with you."

"Wow." Stephen whispered. "Thanks."

Later, when dinner had long since finished, the initial unease disappearing into little fits of giggles brought on by Stiles doing everything he could to make Stephen laugh, they piled into the living room to watch The Incredibles. John sat in his favorite recliner, while everyone else piled onto the couch, Derek in the middle, Stephen on one side, curled into his side, Stiles on the other with Derek's arm around his shoulders. Less than an hour into the movie, Derek was the only one still awake.

  
And hell, in that moment Derek felt more at home than he had in years.  



End file.
